


Look, I Came Here For An Argument!

by Gairid



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:24:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4980694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gairid/pseuds/Gairid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis knows just how to defuse an argument. </p><p> 10/11/15 Drabble Dimanche offering - Four prompts used - sign, lane, miles, highway.  </p><p>Thanks & acknowledgement to  Monty Python's Flying Circus for the title, which is a line from one of their sketches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look, I Came Here For An Argument!

“Louis, we’re _vampires_. We can’t be lost,” Lestat said irritably. “I don’t care what the sign says.”

I read somewhere once that directions and driving are one of the main causes of arguments between couples. I took a cautious glance at him, wondering if I should bring up the fact that one cannot be lost if there is no firm destination in mind.

“Tell me again--where are we going? The GPS….”

“Oh, fuck the GPS!” he cried. “The last time we used it it told me to cross three lanes of traffic to take a left-hand exit when were nearly on top of it.”

“You managed admirably,” I said in an effort to mollify him.

“Yes, well, if I’d have been human we would in all likelihood be dead or dying in some wretched hospital.”

I remained quiet for a time as the miles ticked by far more quickly than the speed limit would have allowed. It’s not a worry, really: should we be stopped, Lestat has proven himself more than adept at dazzling the highway patrol into believing whatever story he might concoct. I don’t care if he has a specific destination in mind--I have plans of my own to take his mind off whatever may be the cause of his irritability. As such, I decided to take the situation in hand and turn it to my advantage.

“The next exit should suffice,” I said with an air of authority.

“Suffice for what?” He said, belligerence still evident in his voice. 

“If you don't have a destination in mind, I expect it is now up to me.”

“I’m not in the mood for games, Louis.” 

“Oh, but I think you are. If you weren’t you would not be complaining about being lost. Come, now, Lestat - your petulance has become tedious. Do what I ask for once and you’ll feel better for it.”

He pulled off the exit at the last second and came to a screeching halt at the end of the ramp. “So,” he said in his best, sneering tone ”Fried chicken at Cracker Barrel?”

“Take a right.” 

He did so with a snort. “We'd be in Houston by now if you didn’t make me drive like the Original Creeping Jesus.” 

“It’s not Jesus who’ll be taking you to bed, is it, my love,” I said.

His eyes went wide as we pulled up to the Marriott Suites.

FIN


End file.
